Interrogation
by Bianca Castafarina
Summary: Tintin/Haddock slash. One-shot. Sometimes Tintin and the Captain like a bit of kinky roleplay.


Interrogation

Tintin wears his old uniform from San Theodoros, from back then when Alcazar made him a colonel, with the elegance and composure of one who has worn it all his life. His black boots, newly polished and shiny, click on the floor as he circles around his prisoner.

That man, a rascal named Archie Haddock, is now fully at Tintin's mercy. He sits on a wooden chair in the middle of Marlinspike's library, wearing his usual black trousers, this time paired with an old white button-down dress shirt saved from the charity bin. His wrists are bound with rope behind his back, fastened to the wood. It is from Haddock himself that Tintin has learnt how to tie knots.

Of course they aren't very tight knots so Haddock can free himself with ease at any moment – it's part of the game.

Tintin sighs, and steps right in front of his prisoner, sizing him up with a long, contemplating look, brows furrowed. In his leather-gloved hand he holds a riding crop; with his other hand he brings a cigarette to his mouth, and inhales.

Haddock does not falter under Tintin's intense gaze.

Tintin exhales, blowing a cloud of smoke into the Captain's face. Although used to pipe tobacco the older man has to cough.

Tintin frowns. There is silence for a full minute until he speaks.

„Well. Archie Haddock. What are we going to do with you?"

„I'm not going to give you any names", Haddock says, voice full of triumph. „And there's nothing you can do about it."

The premise of their game – Haddock being part of a criminal group and Tintin interrogating him for the names of other crime suspects – sets the mood for things they otherwise would be too shy to do. It was Haddock who first confided in Tintin about his fantasy of being dominated by an uniformed superior, and Tintin, after some hesitation, has grown to love it. So far they have not even used their safeword yet. Every time Tintin pays careful attention to the Captain's reactions, making sure the older man is getting exactly what he wants.

„Speak!" he commands, and slaps Haddock's cheeks twice. The Captain flinches when Tintin's palm hits his skin, but his grin tells how far he is from feeling uncomfortable.

„Speak up, traitor!" Tintin raises his voice. „Say their names!"

Haddock stays silent, grinning at him.

Again Tintin brings the cigarette to his mouth, and breathes another cloud of smoke right into his captive's face; then he drops the cigarette on the floor and crushes it under the sole of his shiny black boot. „This is how you're going to end up if you don't speak, scoundrel!"

„It takes more than threats to make me talk", Haddock states. He's still smiling, and his gaze is fixed on Colonel Tintin.

Tintin lifts one leg and stomps his foot right onto the chair seat between Haddock's thighs, and he leans forward until his nose almost touches Haddock's. With one hand he grabs the Captain's jaw. „I order you to speak!"

In his other hand Tintin still holds the riding crop which he twirls and taps on Haddock's thighs.

Then, remembering what he wanted to do this time, he grabs the front of Haddock's white shirt and pulls hard. There's a ripping sound as buttons fly loose, and the Captain cannot suppress a sharply drawn in breath. The next second the old shirt is hanging loose from his shoulders, fully open at the front; and his well-built chest and stomach, their forms more accentuated than hidden by wiry black hair, are exposed. The rugged, masculine look of his body creates a captivating contrast to the smooth whiteness of the shirt.

There is another pause as they stare into each other's eyes, and when Haddock talks it's not what any interrogator would have ever expected from his victim.

„Colonel, you have the most beautiful eyes, sir."

Tintin stares, face frozen wide-eyed. Abruptly he stumbles backward, and his cheeks blush like ripe peaches. „How dare you!" With a trembling hand he points the riding crop at Haddock's half bared chest. „You insolent, brazen, impertinent savage, how _dare_ you mock your superiors!"

He slaps the crop across Haddock's torso. A part of him is amazed at the acting skills he never knew he had, although he is shamelessly exaggerating.

Quickly Tintin regains his wits and sits down on the large library desk in front of the chair where the Captain sits. From this elevated position he looks down at Haddock as if contemplating what to do with this man who is at his complete mercy.

Now he can see it.

Tintin raises an eyebrow, looking at the Captain's crotch where an impressive bulge has formed, and he can barely suppress a grin. Who would have thought that this little game still excites the old sea-dog so much? And what a thrill to be the one who to cause this arousal! But he remains in his role. He points the riding crop at Haddock's erection that's stretching the black trouser fabric, and pokes it. „Hm, what have we got here? Is that a shotgun in your pants, thug?"

„Why don't you check and find out?" Haddocks's mischievous grin widens.

Tintin pretends to consider the option, then replies, „I'm asking the questions here, rebel! We shall continue with the interrogation."

„Colonel." Haddocks's voice turns an octave deeper. He leans back on his chair and moves his lower body forward, as far as the ropes permit, spreading his legs wider. „You know very well what your so-called torture has accomplished so far."

Tintin continues staring at Haddocks's groin. That damned uniform is now getting warm and uncomfortable.

Any second now the Captain will free himself from these ropes and then... oh. A small puffing breath escapes Tintin's lips. He knows he won't be able to keep up the act much longer.

„What are you waiting for, Colonel?" Haddock taunts him. He even bucks his hips up and toward Tintin once, a gesture both obscene and inviting. „You know what I'd do if I weren't tied to this blasted chair. I'd rip that virtuous uniform off you, faster than ten thundering typhoons, and give you a good thorough fucking right here on that desk-"

„Quiet!" Tintin bellows in one last attempt to keep up his act. His cheeks are hot, and something else is feeling very warm, too.

When is Haddock going to get up from this chair? When?

„And your sorry little 'weapon' there-", a quick nod to Tintin's riding crop, „is absolutely no match for mine."

Partly playing angry, partly impatient because Haddock is taking time to tease him, Tintin again hits him with the crop. It snaps when it hits the Captain's legs, and Tintin sees him wince. Another hit. _Snap._

And then everything happens very quickly.

Tintin has hardly noticed the movements of Haddocks's arms behind the back of the chair, and now the older man jumps up from his seat.

The redhead's eyes widen in surprise, and he staggers backward. His bottom hits the table edge, and he gasps, inadvertently letting the riding crop fall to the floor. His shock is almost real. And Haddock lunges forward, grabbing one of Tintin's wrists.

„What are-" Tintin gasps, but in an instant the man's hand covers his mouth. It's warm, weathered and not gentle.

„Time to play, sweetheart", Haddock growls, voice raspy with want. „Is that what the others call you, Colonel? Your bosses when you suck them off, when their cum soaks your neat, tidy little uniform?"

Tintin's knees buckle as Haddock shoves him around roughly, keeping one of the boy's hands pressed onto his back. With his arm thus bent Tintin has difficulties resisting, and squirms in pretend protest, which feels especially naughty when Haddock pushes his pelvis against Tintin's bottom.

„Oh-oh!" Haddock chuckles. „Demanding it already? Do the others know what a slut you are?" He takes his hand from Tintin's mouth, runs it down the lad's neck and keeps it there.

„Ah-" Tintin has trouble finding words. His mind is going dizzy with the thrill of being held in place forcefully, to feel this strong hand on his most vulnerable area. The Captain caresses the tender skin of Tintin's neck, and both know that if he were indeed a dangerous criminal there would be nothing to save Tintin now.

„You..", the redhead stutters, „...you won't get away with this!"

That hand, and the Captain's erection he feels pressing against his bottom, cause the hair on Tintin's nape as well as something else to stand up. Haddock erection is a thick hard ridge barely restrained by both their clothes, shoving itself between Tintin's uniform-pants-clad buttocks. He moves once more in mock resistance, uttering a low moan.

„What was that?" Haddock growls. He removes his hand from Tintin's neck, and grabs his quiff. „Do you want this? Tell me, floozy. Say it!"

„Yes", the boy replies, voice low, „yes, please!" He flinches as his uniform pants are unbuttoned and pulled down with haste.

Cool air caresses his bare bottom, and he hopes he's still wet from the lubricant he has applied earlier. „Take me hard, just have your way with me... please." In this role it is much easier for him to spill out words he would otherwise be too shy to say.

Haddock pushes his hard cock against him, missing Tintin's entrance once before guiding himself inside.

Tintin's moans resound through the high walls, and his sweaty hands slide a few centimeters across the table.

No matter how often they've played this scenario and other games before, that first raw sensation of Haddock breaching him will never lose its appealing newness. That, and the moment when the Captain claims him, and marks him with his seed.

His hands are now holding Tintin's waist, almost enclosing the boy's lithe figure. And Tintin revels in the thrill of being held and controlled. „Ohh", he breathes as Haddock pulls out and pushes back in.

„I really wonder...", the Captain whispers, „what would... the others do if they saw you like that?" He pushes his lover hard with repeated deep thrusts. „They'll punish you... so be grateful I'm preparing you."

„I am", Tintin gasps, and Haddock grabs his ginger hair again, demanding „Say it!"

„I..." Tintin moans, and it's almost as loud as the smacking of skin on skin intermingled with the screeching of the table on the floor. „I thank you—ahh- my Captain!"

The reality of this rough treatment, with its sweaty testosterone-laden scent and Haddock's relentless hands, and the table edge pressing against his lower belly, it all fuels Tintin's imagination and in his fantasy he often takes this game a step further, imagining how the other officers will find him with his disheveled hair and barely pulled-up pants, face flustered and the smell of sex all over him, and when they forcefully remove his pants to confirm what he has done they see he's already well prepared and stretched wide by Haddock's girth, even leaking seed. And they decide to punish him the way it befits a slut like him, taking turns stuffing him with their cocks both in front and rear.

The fantasy drives Tintin closer to the edge with each of Haddocks's thrusts. They become more urgent, and he holds on tighter to the younger man, clearly ready for the final spurt.

Tintin, too, can't last much longer, and strokes himself with an unsteady damp hand, impatient to release the torturous tension he has built up since the very moment he has put on the uniform.

Haddock pushes inside him hard, and remains there, and Tintin feels the Captain's body and his thigh muscles tense even through the sublime waves of his own climax.

It's a rare moment when they both come simultaneously, riveting both in the heat of the moment and in the heated afterglow.

Tintin turns his head over his shoulder as far as he can to see Haddocks's face, and the Captain pulls him close into a wet hard kiss, as if to sign and close the world's most sensual agreement.

Tintin has been signed in another way, too. He waits until his head has cooled off and the orgasmic clouds fogging his mind have passed, until he slowly stands up straight and spreads his legs slightly so his lover's essence can drip out of him. It's something he loves to feel and Haddock loves to watch.

He caresses Tintin's bottom, gentle as usual, his roguish role cast off. They need a break, and the Captain knows that Tintin is often hungry after a session of intense love-making.

„Let's go to the kitchen. Nestor made strawberry cream pie."

.

.

.

the end


End file.
